How the Goddess Got Her Vampire
by mat528
Summary: After the events of "How the Goddess Was Won", Illyria learns how to win Spike's unbeating heart.
1. Chapter 1

HOW THE GODDESS GOT HER VAMPIRE

**A/N: This is yet another "Spillyria" story set after my first one, "How the Goddess Was Won", which I recommend you start with. I apologize about the title. I am not too good with titles. Just to let readers know, this is set in the "After the Fall" universe, though you don't have to read that series to understand this story.**

**Synopsis: Spike deals with Illyria's changeable attitude while the former Hell Goddess tries to understand her newly emerging feelings.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned these characters, but I don't. They are Joss Whedon's, and 20****th**** Century Fox's.**

**Timeline: about two weeks after the first story.**

CHAPTER ONE

Illyria woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside of the mansion she lived in that morning. She could never get used to the noises of the seasons, most especially the one called "Spring"_. _It was too happy, too cheerful for her to be believed. Although, her pet Spike had told her once, happiness was an extremely personal thing. She could appreciate that lesson. For her, once upon a time, happiness had consisted of drilling her armies to attack the Earth and gazing at the sights and delighting in the smells of the Hell dimension she once resided in.

The blue tinged Goddess believed that her alter ego, Winnifred Burkle, probably welcomed the spring with eager eyes and a big heart. She had ceased to think of Fred, as everyone had called her, as a mere human. She also thought of her body as a body, not just a shell. Illyria supposed that was progress. It was also progress that, during the two weeks she and Spike been together, she allowed him to be in her presence longer, especially when they were not engaged in some battle with the demon hordes or other evil miscreants.

Of course, she still thought of him as her pet and not necessarily the man in her life. But she was willing to make some adjustments to concede to his demands in their tenuous relationship, and she had to admit, she loved it when he touched her in places her Army Captain in the distant past would never have dared. Illyria also loved it when Spike kissed her in areas which on the whole made her entire body sing.

So it was on this disgusting spring morning that Illyria decided that she would get to know more about her vampire pet so that she might be more pleasing to him. She wandered about the mansion in search of Spike's valet and butler, Gerard.

Gerard Townsend was a vampire, like Spike. He was one of the few who also had a soul just as Spike did, and he showed absolute humility in her presence. He always gave his opinions in a submissive manner, and he also served as one of the brightest and best know-it-alls about certain demons whenever Spike couldn't identify them.

Gerard had come into their service with the mansion; in fact, he was attached to its' dimensional plane and to the grounds outside from a bet gone bad that he had made in the past with a major league demon. Rather than turn out the pint sized, soft spoken vampire, Spike had let him stay. The platinum blond revenant had said at the time that they could use a guide to the mansion, and besides, Gerry (as Spike referred to him) _did_ have a soul. In addition, Gerard wasn't as irritating as "that eternally bloody poof, Peaches" as Spike called his grand sire, Angel.

Spike's servant was an older looking vampire who people might guess was sixty as his grey hair might attest to. He had an upbeat looking expression on his round face most of the time, with only a few laugh lines around his mouth. He had dark eyes, almost black, and they observed everything they could out of life.

Unlike most vampires, Gerard actually lived for cooking the foods Spike liked to mix his blood with and cleaning the interiors and exteriors of the grounds she and her pet shared. It was in the portrait room that Illyria found the butler. He was trying to reach one of the paintings up too high on the wall for his five-foot-four frame and he was cursing.

Upon Illyria's entry, Gerard greeted, "Good morning, Miss," in his usual British baritone. Unlike Spike, who spoke with a Cockney accent, Gerard's was more refined sounding.

Illyria regarded the butler and said, "Gerard."

She studied the butler intently while he finally managed to get the picture of an English countryside down. He started dusting it, but after a moment, he turned to regard her quizzically when he could feel Illyria's eyes boring into his back.

"Is there something you need, Miss Illyria?" he inquired.

Not one to make small talk, Illyria asked, "I wish to know more about my pet, Spike."

"It might help if you refer to him as a _vampire_ or as a _man_, and not a pet, Miss," Gerard advised.

"Why?" Illyria wondered.

She knew that she and Spike had fought together for one year, three months, and an odd number of days and that he'd earned the right for her to address him by his proper name. But old habits died hard with the former Goddess. She considered herself royalty, and in her eyes, everyone else she dealt with on a daily basis was a peasant…no, she amended, not even a peasant, but an insignificant flea to be crushed.

So where, exactly, did that leave Spike, she wondered?

Illyria found that she didn't see him as a speck anymore. She respected his courage when he stood up to the demons, for one thing. She also commended his ability to stand up to _her, _no matter what it might have cost him. He also had a sharp mind, she observed, particularly for remembering poets. And, most important, he was becoming attractive in her big blue eyes.

She thought about how she had seen him that particular morning as he slept peacefully in one of the mansion's many beds. His leg was curled enticingly over a sheet he had flung off slightly. Illyria found to her annoyance but also to her excitement that as he took his pillow with him when he turned away from her, she imagined it was her he took in his muscular arms.

Even worse, she discovered that when they fought demons, Illyria fantasized that when he slew one of them in a particular way he tried some of those moves on her. In fact, Spike's style of combat gave her a funny feeling between her legs that she'd had trouble identifying at first but that Wesley's ghost had talked to her about during her last visit to Angel's mansion in Los Angeles.

"_These sensations are foreign to me!" She had said to the former Watcher one day. "This body must be ill, that is it."_

"_Ill?" Wesley had queried. "What exactly is wrong with it?"_

"_I feel hot, though I do not sense a fever," she answered. "I also feel like my heart races for no apparent reason."_

_Wesley floated closer to her. She felt him "sensing" her as her eyes darted to him. "I agree there are no ailments affecting you that I can detect," he reported._

"_This is intolerable!" She cried with frustration, hitting Angel's huge oak desk. The vampire walked inside the room just then._

"_Hey!" He yelled in protest. "If you're gonna destroy furniture, do it in someone else's home!"_

"_Angel," phantom Wesley said, ignoring his outburst, "Illyria's unwell, but it doesn't seem to have a physiological connection."_

_Angel thought a moment, then said, "If it isn't a physical thing, maybe it's psychological. Did you fight a huge demon God recently?"_

"_I did not," Illyria replied. Her next words were disdainful. "Spike and I destroyed a Krak'nya demon. He was not worth the effort!" She shouted._

_Angel caught the words "Spike and I". In all the months he had known Illyria, she always had referred to his grandchilde as "my pet" and she had also boasted several times about her fighting, but never __**his**__. _

"_Maybe you're feeling sexual desire for him," the older vampire guessed. Wesley looked at Angel, then brightened, his light glowing more intensely._

"_Yes!" He exclaimed. "That could be it!" He studied Illyria, then pronounced, "You probably do have strong bodily feelings for him." Her hands ran down her slender frame._

"_I do not have those," she declared flatly. "They are a mortal failing." Angel smirked, but didn't say a word._

"_I think you do," Wesley told her. "Do you feel flushed, excited, and also…dare it say it…a tight wetness in a certain region between your legs whenever he is about?"_

_Illyria glared at the former Watcher, but finally revealed that she had been feeling all of those things._

_Angel had tried to deny it, but he had listened to the blue hued former deity's heartbeat when she'd agreed about her feelings for Spike. It had been beating more intensely just then. _

_He thought, __**yep, she's got it bad for him. **__Before he could think of a suitable response, Wesley picked up the slack._

"_Maybe you need to share those…" Wesley paused, searching for the right word, then said …"__**cravings **__with him, and let nature take its course…."_

"Miss?" Gerard pressed. Illyria snapped back to where she was.

"Why does he stir up such desires in me?" She wondered. "What can be done about them?"

"Maybe you should ask him, Miss," Gerard responded. "I find that in areas such as attraction, it's best to stop it at the source." _If in fact that's what you really want, _the servant mentally finished.

"Very well," Illyria said, walking out of the room. She found Spike's resting place moments later and without hesitation, got on the bed beside him. The vampire's hand strayed to a round portion of her metal costume a second later. He felt the nipple beneath and his eyes flew open.

"Blue…?" Spike asked groggily. "What's going on?"

"I wish you to tell me why I feel these sensations for you," Illyria told him, "they are new to me, and I am not sure I like them."

Spike sat straight up in his bed. He felt a hardening beneath the portion of her that he was now stroking with his large, cold hand. The vampire gave her a knowing grin.

"You really sure?" he challenged. "You may be sayin' 'no', but a part of your body's sayin' otherwise."

Illyria swatted his hand away suddenly. When Spike frowned in protest, she told him, "I know the cause of these sensations I am feeling. I wish to have them stopped."

Spike's hand ceased its perusal of her.


	2. Chapter 2

HOW THE GODDESS GOT HER VAMPIRE

**A/N: In the last chapter, Illyria was coming to blows internally with her desires for her pet, Spike. She asked him to stop these feelings...**

**BTW: jumper is British for t shirt.**

**Please read and review. **

_Illyria swatted his hand away suddenly. When Spike frowned in protest, she told him, "I know the cause of these sensations I am feeling. I wish to have them stopped."_

_Spike's hand ceased its perusal of her. _

"Stopped?" He echoed, still not understanding her request.

Spike figured that she didn't want him touching her nipples yet. He didn't mind that, overmuch. That could be done later. There was so much territory that he wanted to explore; so much of her skin that he wanted to caress.

He unzipped the covered zipper which led to her bum, a very _enticing_ bum in his opinion. When his cool lips took over, Illyria bit back a moan. She pushed his head away.

"What's the matter, Blue?" he whispered. "Want me to stroke 'n' snog you lower so that you cream?" He gave her a suggestive leer while he waggled his eyebrows.

Illyria could feel her shields crumbling. She also was, for the first time in her life, afraid. What kind of power was it that Spike held over her so that he forgot his place and, more importantly, she forgot hers?

Two weeks before, Spike had touched her on the mat in the gym they sparred in before patrolling the streets of Beverly Hills for any evil demons. His hand had roamed then, causing her to remember nothing else except the feeling of cool, larger male hands stroking her.

He had lowered her outfit and then, when she had let loose an unearthly moan, he'd thrust his fingers inside of her, pulling and teasing; tempting, exciting. She'd felt the most sticky wetness she'd ever encountered. Not even when the rivulets of blood from the armies she'd slain touched her body had she felt the heady sensation of desire most profound. But when Spike, a lowly crumb no less, had dared to paw her, she lost all sense of self; all sense of balance. He had rapidly become the center of her nexus. She had wanted, much to her shame, to feel such sensations again and again once he'd finished.

That, she had decided then and now, was totally unbefitting a warrior Goddess of her stature.

Illyria pushed him violently off of the bed, snarling, "I wish for you not to come near me! It is obscene for you to touch me in such a manner!"

Spike poked his head over the mattress, rejoining, "You din't seem to have a problem the last time!" He got up and stared down at her.

Illyria tossed back her long, blue tinted hair in defiance. "I have regained my senses! These feelings that you awaken are sickening and distasteful! I wish for them to cease," she reiterated.

Spike clenched his fist and walked over to the window. He felt his face starting to mist a little as a tear fell from an eye. If he had Willow's spell book just now, he would have paid a King's ransom to find an incantation which would remove his ability to show his emotions outwardly, even if just for a moment. Spike wished he could be like other vampires. He wished that he could just maim, kill, and feed. He didn't want to care about anyone or anything as much as he did.

But when Drusilla his sire had made him a vampire over 100 years ago and his demon had taken over him, it seemed nature had also played a little trick in that William, his human persona, didn't go to the great beyond with his soul. The mousy, overly sensitive poet was still locked away inside. It was this persona that had wracked him with guilt several times over Buffy and, even before he'd gotten his soul back, had sometimes scratched and clawed at his conscience

Despite his best efforts to tell himself that he was like other vamps; that he didn't have one, Spike had always been sensitive to many things on many levels.

The vampire didn't say a word until he left his bedroom. Once he was outside, Spike let loose a string of curses and strong language, culminating with, "Bloody _idiot!_ Should never have begun anythin' with her!"

Illyria stared at the sheets for a moment; then, she remembered that Spike had just referred to her as an idiot. Angrily, she stormed out of the room after him. She searched for her pet for a few moments before finding him in one of the Master bedrooms they sometimes laid in together.

"How _dare _you address me in such a manner!" Illyria shouted. Spike paid her no heed. He didn't face her, but just stared out the treated window.

'_m gettin' to be like Peaches! _He admitted to himself as he realized he was brooding.

When he didn't say anything, the blue hued woman commanded, "You will _not _ignore me!"

Illyria thundered over to the window and seized her pet with both hands, spinning him around so that he faced her. Spike growled at her, revealing his true demonic visage, but other than that, he continued to ignore her.

"I will not tolerate your insolence!" She snapped, thrusting her chin forward so that their faces touched.

Spike jerked himself away. When she would have grabbed him again, the vampire stormed out of the room. Illyria decided that she would not follow him, but when he didn't return a few minutes later, she followed outside of the room to see where Spike had gone.

She found him in the music room, blasting an obscene song by one of his many favorite groups that she could not recall the name of.

When she snatched his headphones off, the blond vampire exploded, "don't much _care _what you'll tolerate, Blue!" "That's your bloody problem! You always are tellin' me what to do, an' what you'll do to me if I don't dance to your soddin' tune. Now you want me to stop _touching _you when I want! Well bugger off! Who died an' made _you _Queen of the Bloody Universe?"

Spike thought about what Illyria was before and thundered, "I mean, who made you the Queen of the Universe or wha'ever _this _time?"

Illyria crossed her arms. "I fail to see why you are upset!" She shouted.

The vampire stared at her incredulously. "You come into my room, make me think you want to go further in this relationship we're startin', then you tell me to cease and desist an' you don't know why I'm narked?" He asked. She snatched the headphones off of him.

"I told you before: I will not be ignored!" She shouted. Spike bolted from the chair. Having heard both sets of voices, Gerald came into the room in time to see the other vampire storming back out. The servant switched off the music and watched as his fellow revenant took the path back to his bedroom.

Spike grabbed a black t shirt from a hanger in the back. He put the shirt on, then turned around to put on a pair of black jeans which were hanging with the jumper.

Trying to keep the peace between his two employers, Gerard soothed to Spike, "Sir, try to keep in mind that she is not like us. She was a goddess, and you cannot remove that from her."

Spike mumbled, "Don't I bloody well know it!"

To Illyria, Gerard advised, "And you, Miss, try to remember that he is a Master Vampire, and he deserves the utmost respect."

His human features slipping back into place, Spike said bitterly, "'f you had a thousand sodding dictionaries open with the meaning o' the word, she still wouldn't get it!"

Turning from them, Spike thought, _Don't know why I get involved with women who don't bloody respect me! First Cecily, then Dru, then Buffy, now Blue._

He muttered, "must be some cosmic curse, or somethin'! I get good looks, a great personality, bu' I'm a poor judge o' character when it comes to women!"

To Gerard, he said, "Good luck with her." He left the room heading for the front door.

Illyria ran after him, yelling, "I did not give permission for you to depart from me!"

Spike yelled, "Din't ask for it, Blue!" He left the mansion, got on his motorcycle, and drove off. Illyria didn't chase the vampire.

"He will return," she said confidently.

"And, if he doesn't, Miss?" Gerard asked, concerned. Illyria felt a moment's twinge of worry. After a moment, she shrouded herself in pride.

"Then, I shall do without him," she said defiantly. When she had gone, Gerard shook his head back and forth.

"Fools, the pair of them…" he commented, returning to his chores. Despite his declaration, Gerard hoped that the two obstinate beings he served would be able to put their animosity to rest permanently.


	3. Chapter 3

XXXXXXXXXX

Spike rode toward the pool hall later that night after crashing at the smaller mansion on the other side of the estate Illyria and he lived on.

It had been in his thoughts to simply get things done and confront her, but he knew that doing such a thing would insure his untimely demise since she was stronger than he was. Spike could have tried to draw Fred out of the former deity, but that would take time, and the vampire didn't feel like devoting any more effort toward communicating with Illyria's gentler half.

_Besides, _he thought, _I could use some buffalo wings to nosh on anyway._

The vampire put his order in, and minutes later, was eating perfectly cooked buffalo wings with his pint of AB when he felt, or rather smelled, a familiar figure.

Alexander Harris strode into the hall, taking a pool cue from the wall and letting it fly, totally unaware of the horrible game he was playing. Nestled in the shadows, William the Bloody shook his head back and forth as the one he called "The Whelp" to the vampire missed shot after shot. Xander driled his cue like a man possessed, however, then relaxed after having caused every ball to scatter so that they were all over the emerald canvas.

"Hey, Harris," Spike called from the dark corner he stood in, "you ever _seen_ a pool table before?"

Xander racked up all of the missed balls so that they formed a perfect triangle.

While he aimed the cue to send the balls to and fro again, the dark haired man admitted, "No. Pool's not my game. You know we didn't have one in Sunnydale. And why are you not calling me 'Whelp' like you usually do?"

"'Cause I felt sorry for you jus' now after seein' the way you play pool," Spike responded.

Xander made a shot with his cue, missing most of the balls, but making a better breaking shot.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Spike shrugged.

"Question is: what are _you _doin' here?" the vampire asked. "This here's my territory now."

Xander clamped his lips shut. He didn't have to tell the vampire before him anything! It wasn't like they had ever been friends. He didn't owe explanations to anyone, and he was determined to keep things within the status quo. But he also realized with an inner sigh that William the Bloody would find out his lame reason for being in Beverly Hills. Xander had seen via the magic mirror Willow had given him for his birthday last year that the Master Vampire had moved to the affulent location after battling several demons and opening the dimensional portal that the richest area of California had been sucked into. It was his dumb luck that _she _had gotten to Beverly Hills and that Spike conjugated there.

He had to admit with a touch of envy that the rich locale had suited Spike very well. The vampire seemed less angsty and more like his old self: pessimistic, argumentative, ready to pick a fight. The years after the fall of Sunnydale had not been as kind to Xander. True, he had his existence in South America, and he tried to have fun with the locals as much as was humanly possible given that he served as a troubleshooter for Slayers in that part of the world. But the job consumed most every waking moment he had, and it demanded those he didn't. Xander tried to tell himself that he was okay with that, and that he didn't really need anyone except his old friends in other parts of the world that he regularly emailed and sometimes called.

When push came to shove however, what Xander really wanted was one woman beside him, both in and out of bed, to show him a good time but also get to the heart of things when he needed her to. Anya Jenkins, the former vengeance demon-turned human-turned witch-turned back into vengeance demon again, had been such a woman. She had often said things that were inappropriate much to his and his friends' embarrassment. Despite all of that, Xander had wanted to pursue a life with Anya, at least for a record time given his young life of two or three years.

But he couldn't reconcile himself with her demon habits, and he certainly couldn't abide the evil faerie that she had been before she'd met him. That had hung in the air like a foul odor, and despite everything Xander told himself to get rid of his thoughts regarding it, that had clung to Anya and damned their chance of success together. When the young man thought about how he'd considered her an embarrassment and about how lucky he'd been to escape her ensnarement of him in the bonds of matrimony, he wanted to gag now. As the saying went, "if I knew then what I know now...".

"Hey! Whelp...you dreamin'?" Spike's Cockney voice cut into his mental ramblings.

When the human young man regarded the vampire, Spike was waving his hand in front of Xander's face. The platinum blond vampire said, "What's goin' on? Just why are you in my zip code?"

Xander knew the answer to that one, but as he thought about an explanation, he wondered how much he should reveal to Spike.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Illyria returned to the room Gerard was in and her big blue eyes followed the vampire back and forth as he dusted the portraits hanging in the room. At least one was of Milton's version of Hell, with the angels falling out of Heaven into the pit. The former Hell goddess liked that painting best. Whenever she knew that the butler and her pet were not in the portrait room, Illyria would walk past the painting with its rich colors of blue, white, black and red, and she would daydream about the place she'd come from, and the path she now found herself upon.

Illyria felt the emotion sadness cloud her mind whenever she thought about her home. She had never felt that this mansion had been her true home, despite Spike's and Gerard's efforts to make it so. She had always felt isolated and alone, particularly since Wesley's death. It seemed like Winnifred Burkle, her alter ego, could move on with relative ease, but Illyria didn't have the knack for doing so. She supposed that it was because she thought in terms of being immortal and living forever. In the past, Illyria had lived for centuries and therefore gave no thought to dying like humans did.

The idea that her life would cease to function after a short span of sixty to eighty years was totally foreign to her. Goddesses didn't die, it was that simple, and she was the most powerful of all Hell Goddesses. It didn't matter that now, in taking on a human shell, she would stare death in the face one day, and he would win. All that mattered was that she wouldn't die _soon_ since she was still a Goddess, at least in part.

That was, she supposed, why she couldn't accept her non-human pet. Although he was also immortal, he wasn't an immortal by her standards. He could be injured by so many more things than she that Illyria never felt like he was her equal. That brought her back to the first square, as she put it, or "square one", like Wesley had said one day when he was teaching her human colloquialisms.

The former Hell deity found herself walking back and forth, feeling as though she were being smothered. Gerard stopped dusting and studied her.

"Miss?" he asked. Illyria stopped her pacing and regarded him.

"Why don't you go out for a walk?" Gerard asked. "It may brighten your mood."

"Which mood is that?" Illyria wanted to know.

Gerard got down from the stool he'd stood on while he was dusting and said, "If I had to hazard a guess, I would say pensive. It seems to me that Master Spike's departure is not being well received by you."

Illyria looked at him coldly, snarling, "You do not know what you are telling me. I do not miss my pet. I merely tolerate his presence, and if he were to vanish, it would not affect me."

_Sure, Miss Illyria, sure, _the butler thought. Aloud he said, "Whatever you say, Miss."

"But I shall go out and see what is occurring with the demons we fight," Illyria said. "It would please me to crush their bones beneath my feet."

Gerard smiled, saying, "Yes, Miss Illyria. Have fun."

Illyria started walking toward the exit but then turned back, saying, "I shall bring one home for you to practice on."

The butler was shocked. Ever since he'd known both Spike and Illyria, the woman had never made any gestures of friendship, or regarded what would be best for the older vampire.

"That would be great, Miss," Gerard told her. When she left, he whistled a happy tune as he polished one of the mahogany tables.

Illyria opened one of her dimensional portals which led to town. When she found herself in the alley right by _Papillion's Jewelers, _the Hell being saw a young man running past her. The way he ran by caught her eye. It was as if he were trying to escape the very devil. Moments later, Illyria saw why the man ran.

"Come, come, tweet tweet..." she heard his pursuer chirp. "Mummy only wants a li'l treat."

Illyria saw a female vampire with dark hair and alabaster skin, her eyes glowing brighter as she headed right where the man had run. Her red leather pants were clinging to her as though they were two sizes too small for her, and her corseted top outlined her every curve.

The man came closer, finally running into the cramped space. "Quick!" he shouted to Illyria. "You've gotta help me! She's off her rocker!"

The former Goddess was happy; she finally had a distraction to keep her mind off Spike. But moments later, her nose told her that she should not have been so elated. The man was edging back more slowly, his blood dripping from the wound on his neck too rapidly.

"Did you consume her blood?" Illyria asked. The man, who looked attractive (she supposed) with his dark hair and green eyes, also didn't look too bright.

"I thought it was some kind of crazy ritual when we went back to my place," he told her.

He felt himself go dizzy and stumbled out from his hiding place. Illyria knew from cavorting with Spike what was occurring. If he drank from the crazy woman, and she had drained him, then it was only a matter of time...

The Hell being needed no guide to tell her that in three days, maybe less, the man would rise to his new life. She didn't need to read in the tomes Wesley had left that she was too late, and that he would be "off her rocker" woman's vampire pet. Illyria could pick off the formerly human man's mistress, and subsequently drive him insane with mourning so that he would know her carnage first hand. But as she saw the woman pick up the lifeless remains of the man she had sired, Illyria sensed that there was something different about her adversary...something _powerful._

The other female confirmed that when, a second later, she dropped the body to the ground and cried, "Oh! My sweet William's dolly has left her bed! She's here, an' ready to play with me."

Illyria didn't wait this time to see what would occur. She boldly stepped out so that the woman could see her and pronounced, "So, you are aware of my pet. How long have you known him?"


End file.
